Just because gods are more powerful than humans in many ways, (but not all), do not assume this greater power automatically equates to a higher morality, because I assure you it does not. In fact, by human standards, the morality of most gods is not so much higher as it is highly suspect. As a group, we are not above things such as hate, jealousy, pettiness and, in some cases, even things like abuse, misogyny, and racism. We do not always have a plan in mind for your betterment. We do not always care about your betterment. Depending on the god and the person, we could care much more about your discomfort and destruction than anything else, if we care anything about you at all, which is a big “if.”

Let me give you an example:

In the New Testament, Paul talks about how he has come to glory in his tribulations because he knows God is behind it, making him a better man by it, and if Satan is all over him like that, it must mean he is doing something right. (If you’ll excuse the paraphrasing). While it is possible Paul was right, it is also possible his god was either getting off on the tribulations, enjoying monkeying around with Paul’s life because he knew he could get away with it and not lose the kid’s worship, or he had gotten bored with the whole deal, turned his back and just let bad shit happen because he no longer cared. Probably that last thing.

No god is above character flaws, including (and especially) me. No god is above moral gaffs, including (and especially) me. No god is pure good perfected, and any god who tells you he is, is a bigger liar than I am.

-H.

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About M. Ashley

Essayist and poet, my work has been rejected by some of the finest journals in America. Fortunately, it also gets accepted from time to time and has appeared in equally fine journals such as Word Riot, Inlandia, Brew City Magazine, and SageWoman among others.. In 2002, I was awarded the Academy of American Poets Prize for Vanderbilt University.
For no good reason, I possess an unnecessarily dark humor which is why being third generation California Inland Empirian delights me so. My gods are weird. I once received $350 for writing a smartassed essay on “why the wise use of water is important in my daily life”. I am undoubtedly the Greek god Hermes’ special snowflake. I’m pretty sure I got into college via a series of fortuitous clerical errors.
When I had to grow up and get a real job, I decided against it and stayed a writer. I have worked many odd—and I mean odd—jobs to support my habit: Commercial writer for country music hopefuls, resume massager, WalMart fitting room attendant and switchboard operator, telephone psychic.

Hermes: I get that you feel badly about your inability to help certain people. I know that you feel like you are not doing enough, even though you work tirelessly, running from the top of heaven to the depths of hell, burning the candle at both ends to satisfy the demands of your father and also of all of the people you love (some of whom are so far outside the realm of being your actual followers that it’s kinda laughable that you’ve counted them among your flock at all), sometimes failing at both. And I know that you know that there are gods that don’t work nearly as hard as you do, don’t hold themselves to your –frankly exhausting– standards. But don’t stand there, poised on the stronger of your two feet, seconds away from helping a person who doesn’t deserve it, telling me how immoral you are. It is because you tirelessly criticize yourself in addition to all of this, because of your striving to always be something more and better than you are, that I have always respected you.

Quit beating yourself up, and come join me for some cookies and wine. And maybe some D&D. Zeus won’t miss you for a few hours, and I promise, none of your followers will drown in their own spittle.